


no shortage of sordid (no protest from me)

by thishazeleyeddemon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Also kind of, Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Consensual Possession, Dom Adam Milligan, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, I guess look there's a lot of mental stuff going on here, I guess????, I'm not gonna say it's bad tho I mean I do want you to read it., I'm still doing it I'm just wildly depressed and this takes less effort so, Lord idk how to tag this, M/M, Michael Possessing Adam Milligan, Not Beta Read, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Self-cest, Sub Michael, Voyeurism, Wing Kink, don't look at me, gently side-stepping the issue of whether or not they look the same here, if you get this notification because you followed me from Convalesce listen. I know, imagine what you please., it's porn and I'm depressed what do you want from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:39:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26977474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishazeleyeddemon/pseuds/thishazeleyeddemon
Summary: There are a lot of earthly experiences Adam can guide Michael through.Some Michael is more in favor of than he expected.
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 30
Kudos: 85





	no shortage of sordid (no protest from me)

**Author's Note:**

> is it only because Michael and Adam share the same face that there aren't tons of fics about them. cowards
> 
> (yes the title is a Hozier lyric)

They didn’t play like this very often.

They were just doing other things is all it was. The universe contained _so much_ to do and visit and see, from all the countries on Earth to what the humans had christened MACS J1149+2223, a distant blue star halfway across the universe that Michael remembered watching the birth of, on one of the rare occasions he had had the time and the urge to go and watch stars. They were simply too busy to do such a thing so often, when they had so many choices available to them these days, and more every time they returned to Earth (humans never seemed to stop making things, Michael had discovered).

But that was part of it, wasn’t it?

It was hard to explain, even to himself, Michael had discovered. It wasn’t that he enjoyed being told what to do, really – and that in truth, was not what this was. After all, Adam had never ordered anything of him that Michael hadn’t told him beforehand he would be comfortable with doing.

It was that, well...sometimes it all got a bit overwhelming.

He hadn’t made any choices for himself for so long, is all. Even when he was the Viceroy of Heaven, everything was to fulfill his Father’s will in the hopes of bringing him back ( _so many wasted years-)._ Freedom was _good,_ so good he sometimes wanted to weep at the thought of his past self and everything that he had missed for _so long,_ but it was still something he was adjusting to. The idea of making choices for his own comfort and pleasure was still...uncomfortably foreign.

“Is that good?” Adam asked. His eyes were half-lidded and hot, voice low and raspy with want. His hand twisted, and Michael arched his back, his cry muffled in the soft sheets beneath him. “Use your words, halo,” Adam murmured, the faint admonishment in his voice belied by the way his soul sparked and his – their – blood ran bright.

“Yes, _yes, Adam -”_

Wasn’t it good then that he could trust Adam to do it for him?

They had found a hotel for their purposes, a reasonably nice place with bright lights and pretty pictures that Michael would not have been able to remember the name of if you had paid him (although with what he would want to be paid in, he wasn’t sure). The room they’d hastily paid for (at Adam’s insistence) was quite nice as well, although Michael’s favorite part was the bed. It was long enough for Adam to stretch out to his full length while Michael still had enough room to lie by him without accidentally sticking his apparition’s hand through Adam’s stomach or something, an occurrence both of them found oddly distressing.

Adam was leaning back with his head against the headboard, his hair mussed and falling over one eye. His clothes were rumpled as well, his jacket unbuttoned and falling off his shoulders and his shirt pushed up past his stomach. His jeans were pushed down to his knees, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other wrapped around his cock. He was doing a bad job of pretending to be unaffected by what he was doing to Michael, his soul warm and pulsing around Michael’s Grace and his face flushed and breaths stuttering.

The challenges of having sex when Michael was very much sharing his body had stymied them for some time. Obviously, Michael leaving Adam’s body was right out – he wanted no other, he would have no other, and besides, the notion of taking someone as a vessel to have sex with their body was a fine rare example of something that was repulsive to Adam, Michael-now, _and_ Michael-past (although for different reasons). Using his apparition for sex didn’t work either, namely because it was hard to maintain enough focus to be tangible and in possession of working nerve endings when Adam’s hands were on him, in him, making his Grace sing.

Adam’s eyes were on him, his attention clear and diamond-bright as he dragged his hand down to the base of his, or at the moment, _their,_ cock and back up again with a twisting motion, one that sent fire sparking up their spine. Michael twisted, mouth open and gasping for air he didn’t need.

With one sliver of his mind he wondered what he had to look like, all broken-open and wanting. He could look through Adam’s eyes if he wanted to, but his face told enough of the story on its own. The tiny corner of himself (one that he’d never been able to successfully suppress) that was more than a little bit vain preened at the look on Adam’s face, all that desire and attention solely on _him._ And all he had to do for it was lie there and take all the pleasure Adam wanted to give him.

As it turned out, other ways hadn’t been too hard to find.

“ _I like watching you like that,” Adam had whispered to him one night, when Michael was still staring up at the ceiling, his Grace all strung-out and thrumming with the liquid aftershocks of orgasm. “You look so – peaceful I guess would be the word. Like you don’t have a care in the world outside of us, outside of how good it feels...” His soul had touched Michael then, and Michael had been overwhelmed by the rush of love he’d felt, love for who Michael was and not his power, not what he was to someone else, or what he could do for them. “I love doing that for you.”_

_That had not been their only round that night._

Adam dug his thumb into the head of their cock, pre-come dripping out and down their length. He gasped, and Michael moaned, long and loud, his back arching again -

\- only for Adam to pull his hand off completely, leaving them both bereft.

“Oh, you’re the _worst,”_ Michael laughed, not truly able to sound upset – this was how the game went, was all. He would come when Adam wanted him to, he could do that, be good for him...Michael squirmed, wondering at how natural these motions felt these days when once it had seemed odd to even sit when he could be standing. “Adam, _please...”_ He’d aimed for haughty and sardonic, but what actually came out of his mouth was embarrassingly desperate, low and aching.

Adam grinned, dragging his nails lightly up themself and Michael’s voice broke off, air he didn’t need hissing out through his teeth. “This is unfair,” he informed Adam, in case he was unaware. His voice was coming out high and breathless, fists clenching in the sheets. “Just – _awful.”_

Adam’s smile widened, eyes filled with mirth and a dark hunger. “I don’t know, I’m enjoying the show,” he said lightly. He reached forward and cupped Michael’s cheek, swiping his thumb across Michael’s cheekbone. Michael gasped, and not just because the nerves he was borrowing the use of were alight and singing. Contact between them was a bit of a fickle thing, but it was a little more than just touching Adam’s skin – he could see Adam’s love like this. Michael had known love before (or thought he had) but he had never known love like Adam’s, hot and bright and full of a fierce joy. He could feel Adam’s pleasure too, his hunger and arousal at seeing Michael like this. Michael moaned again, turning his face into Adam’s palm.

_I love you,_ he thought muzzily, through the sex-drunk haze in his mind. _I love you, I love you, you have me, all of me -_

_-_ Adam moaned this time, his head tilting back and exposing the lines of his throat before his gaze dropped back down to Michael, filled with a deep well of possessiveness and affection. “Beautiful,” he purred. Michael smiled, leaning his head more into Adam’s hand.

He knew it was a bit silly, but he couldn’t help it – he liked that Adam thought he was beautiful, that Adam liked looking at him no matter what face he wore, be it his true one or another. There were a couple of reasons for this, he was fairly sure, but one of the most prominent was that no one really cared if a sword was beautiful or not. No one cared if a tool had shiny feathers, or clothes that it liked. All it had to do was fulfill the purpose it was given.

Michael liked this one a little more.

Adam swiped his thumb underneath Michael’s cheekbone again and then smiled, which was all the warning that Michael got before Adam reached up behind their body with his other hand, to where one set of Michael’s wings were resting just sideways of this reality, and dug his fingers in.

“ _Hhhn-ah!”_ The groan that broke from Michael’s throat was loud and shameless, his hips grinding down in an instinct he had to have picked up from Adam. Only Adam didn’t let up, digging his fingers into the feathers, pulling at them in a way that should have hurt except it was Adam, and Michael was already so loose and aroused that all it did was make his thoughts stutter and repeat themselves, hungry cries spilling from his throat.

“You need something, halo?” Adam said.

Michael swallowed, trying to pull his thoughts together, but Adam never gave him a chance to, pulling and stroking at his wings with no rhythm at all, never letting Michael get used to it. He pulled his hand away from Michael’s face, and Michael groaned at the loss before Adam wrapped his hand around their cock again. Michael shuddered, the whine that came from his mouth desperate and hungry even to his own ears.

“Adam,” he asked, wondering that his own voice could sound so breathy. “Kid, _come on -”_

“Sorry, did you want something?” Adam’s face was openly mesmerized, soft little gasps coming from him as he teased the head of their cock, but his voice was forcibly controlled as he lowered his hand from Michael’s wings to lick across his palm before grabbing their length and pulling up in one long stroke. The noise Michael made barely sounded like a human or an archangel or any other member of Creation.

“I can’t read your mind, halo,” said Adam in one of the most false things anyone has ever said ever. “You’re going to have to ask for what you want.”

“Oh, _fuck you,”_ Michael gasped, too soft and hungry to have any teeth to it. Of course it didn’t – this was part of their play too.

“Do you want to?” Adam asked, as he kept stroking, eyes fixed on Michael as Michael struggled to hold back keens of pleasure. “I wish you could. I dream about it sometimes, halo, you pressing me down, filling me up until I can feel you in my _throat..._ it would be so _good,_ Michael. Do you want that? Do you want to be inside of me?”

“Aren’t I already?” Michael gasped, and Adam laughed.

He reached up then, feeling around in Michael’s feathers until his fingers brushed against something that made Michael let out a low, fucked-out moan.

He didn’t think his Father had ever thought he would use his oil glands for this, he thought giddily (An adjective no one in Creation would have ever used for him before he met Adam).

Adam pressed in, until oil rose up around his fingers. He started stroking it through the feathers gently in time to the strokes on their cock, until Michael’s Grace was sparking with overstimulation, his apparition flickering as he struggled to hold it together.

“Got anything to say to me, halo?” Adam asked, his voice a low drawl that just barely masked the moan lying just underneath. His hands were shaking.

Michael barely heard him. He felt like he was made of dozens of disparate pieces haphazardly sewn together, the thread that bound him fraying and breaking. He wanted to fall over the edge, collapse into a loose cloud of energy like a star at the end of its life. He could feel Adam’s love, in him and through him and all around him, bright, and soft, and hungry as a ravenous wolf. He could feel how his Grace wasn’t just contained in Adam’s throat but pulsed through him, running through his veins to the beat of his heart.

He felt so secure. Held so tightly. How could Adam be so small and hold him so well?

(There was nothing small about Adam)

_Please,_ he gasped, forgetting to speak it with his apparition’s mouth and letting his desire flow out of him through Adam. _Please let me come._

Adam moaned then, finally letting himself go, and started to stroke faster, adding the twist of the wrist towards the head of their cock that Michael knew he liked. He lowered the hand he’d been using on Michael’s wings to his length, and began to pump with that one instead, smearing Michael’s wing oil all over them.

“Go on,” he gasped. _“Come for me, Mikha’il.”_

And there was something about that, about his oil on his human, the sound of Enochian in his human’s mouth, that made Michael arch his back and come with a choking cry, the world around him dissolving into light.

When he had pulled himself back together again, he was looking out through their body’s eyes again, just below the threshold that would have given him control. He felt like water poured out of a pitcher, fluid and formless. He hummed, pressing against Adam’s soul, and drifted slightly further down, noting with pleasure the white slick on Adam’s stomach before he dispelled it.

“Hey, halo.” Adam always felt different after they did this sort of thing too, the light of him soft and soothing, tension drained away. “How are you feeling?”

_As if you can’t tell._

Adam laughed softly at that. “I still like asking.” Threads of his soul wound around Michael, pressing in with a gentle caress. Michael shivered, pleased. The sensitivity that followed orgasm was one of his favorite parts; he liked aching with what Adam had done to him. He thought the word for it was grounding, a reminder not only that he was part of the world, not a distant, unfeeling observer, but that he was a part that could have things like this offered to him. It was...good, was all. It was good.

“Do you need anything?” Adam sat up, pulling off his ruffled coat and kicking his pants the rest of the way off. There were beads of sweat on him, and Michael could feel the way his limbs felt loose and leaden with exertion. Michael didn’t bother to dispel it – he knew Adam liked it too. Instead he quietly eyed the long expanse of his skin that was revealed; he was too tired to go again right this moment, but that didn’t mean his love wasn’t still pleasant to look upon.

_Some rest would be nice._ It never felt odd to say things like that in this golden, timeless space afterwards.

“You wanna sleep and I can read?” Adam asked, fumbling for the jacket he’d just discarded for his phone (he’d been astounded at the progress of technology during their imprisonment, and privately so had Michael – how could anything change so much in so few years?). “I can wake you up if anything happens.”

Michael didn’t sleep, not exactly, but whatever it was that he could do was close enough that he found it relaxing. And that was another pleasure freedom brought – the freedom to do nothing at all but exist, and rest. _Thank you, love._

There was a brief stutter from Adam, as there always was when Michael called him that, before he huffed out a quiet laugh and did something with his soul that, if they had been in separate bodies, probably would have been giving Michael a quick kiss. He grabbed one of the pillows then, placing it behind himself before drawing the covers over his body and sinking down into the mattress with a soft sigh.

Michael repeated the gesture he had just done back to him, like pressing a kiss to his forehead, before sinking down into the darkness of their mostly-shared mental space, letting his connection to their senses dissipate in a wash of warm, swirling static, until all he could feel was Adam, and peace.

Overwhelming though it could be, freedom had its benefits.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> now that I've written this can we get more solely Midam fics that aren't au please. I can't just read darkmillenium's for the rest of my life and I'm tired of having it be overshadowed by Destiel (no one come for me please)
> 
> god I hope this isn't corny I haven't written porn since 2017


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